Through These Broken Memories
by InterNutter
Summary: Kurt loses his memory in a scuffle with the Brotherhood. Mayhem ensues. Rated for violence and elf-torture. Completed fic!


Disclaimer: X-Men: Evolution belongs to Warner Brothers, Marvel Comics  
et al. This fanfic is all I own by comparison. Please don't steal it.  
Thanks.  
  
Archiving: email cat@devil.com and ask nice :) I do like to know where  
these things wind up :)  
  
Summary: Kurt loses his memory in a scuffle with the Brotherhood. Mayhem  
ensues.  
  
Coding info: Since fanfic is wont to turn up on web pages, I've  
deliberately avoided anything to do with greater-than or less-than  
signs, because they tend to screw up HTML something chronic. Hence;  
asterisks (*) denote emphasis, underscores (_) thoughts or italics,  
curly brackets ({}) sound effects and square brackets ([]) foreign  
languages. I refuse point blank to codify accents, as it winds up  
reading like lousy spelling :) I have enough trouble with that as it is.  
  
From the Author: This is a really *obscure* musical title, so I'm not  
offended if y'all don't recognise it. It's the last line from _My Brain  
is Like a Seive_ by Thomas Dolby [with The Lost Toy People]. Since most  
songfics give me hives[Sorry, all songficcers, but I like my portions of  
original work *large*], I usually don't quote lyrics, but since this is  
*obscure*, I'll give you a little taste from the important part:  
  
"My brain is like a seive  
Sometimes it's easier to forget  
All the bad things you did to me [did to me, did to me]  
My brain is like a seive  
But it's a place where we both could live  
If you wanted you could come in  
So come in... [instrumental break]  
  
Did you really mean to hurt me?  
No, I think you only meant to tease  
But it's hard to remember  
Through these broken memories  
Through these broken memories."  
  
It's all very innocent and sad and kinda chilling when you think of the  
words, but it *did* inspire :) Thank you Mr Dolby, wherever you are.  
Thanks also to the Author of "Kurt's Crush" aka "That wierd, illustrated  
songfic thingy", Maria Lorimer. I 'borrowed' your idea of Kurt fixating  
on a scented hankie for the maguffin in the beginning. Plus I love your  
pix. They're so *CUTE* :) :#) Ahem. Onwards.  
  
Through These Broken Memories  
InterNutter  
  
"There you are!" He crowed at the discovery. Kurt kept his infectious  
smile up despite the fact that Kitty had been crying. Whatever had been  
bothering her, it wouldn't stand up long against an all-out elf humour  
assault. "The others are down in the dining room, wondering where you've  
been." He strode into the library. "And speaking of beans, we're having  
one of your favourites tonight, meat-optional chille con--"  
"Yup," said Logan.  
Kurt turned, breaking off to wonder what the Wolverine was doing  
lurking in the shadows. That was his job. "Herr Logan? What are you--"  
"I knew it!" Kitty bellowed, causing him to turn again. "This the sort  
of stupid, bone-headed, idiotic -- RRRR!" She stomped right up to him  
and landed an open-handed blow across his face that almost made him turn  
right around again. "I never want to see your stupid blue furry *freaky*  
face ever again, got that?"  
"Ah..." He could only watch her go. "As. You wish." Then he was caught  
up in a rather agressive hold by Logan, who slammed him into the wall.  
What was it with bigger males and their desire to drag him around by the  
front of his shirt?  
"Word of advice, ya little squirrel. Keeping a lady's things to sniff  
ain't exactly the first word in chivalry. *Stealing* them is just low."  
Stealing? "But I didn't--" or did he? There were subtleties and not-so  
subtleties in this country that went right past his understanding until  
they elected to land on him. Maybe what he'd done *was* theft...  
Regardless, Logan didn't let him protest. "Shuddup." He emphasised the  
word by bouncing him off the wall again. "Her scent's all over you, elf,  
so lying about it is gonna get you exactly nowhere. There's laws against  
what you've done, bub. *Hefty* laws. Keep it up, and they'll throw you  
in jail, and they *won't* let you keep the image inducer. Got any idea  
what they *do* to young mutants in a jail? They'll do it worse to you.  
*Way* worse."  
Fear and self-revulsion combined and began to leak from his eyes. Kurt  
was one step short of hyperventilating all-out panic. For the first time  
since he'd come to the Institute, he felt uncomfortable in his skin. He  
wanted to hide his face.  
His blue, furry, freaky face. That Kitty never wanted to see again.  
"I'll fix it," he promised. "I'll fix it. I promise. I'll fix  
everything. Nie weider, ich verspreche. Ich repariere alles, swear  
ich..."  
"Wolverine? What are you doing to him?"  
"...Ich bin traurig! Ich bin traurig..."  
"Just teaching him a valuable lesson, darlin'."  
One of Logan's knuckles was pressing into his throat, making it even  
more difficult to breathe. Kurt grasped the wrist in question with all  
five limbs, trying to break a grip that could, in a fraction of a  
flinch, release adamantium talons right through him.  
"You're sure that's *all* you're teaching him?"  
"...ich... kann... nicht... atmen..." Kurt managed. Only a few more  
seconds until unconsciousness closed all opportunities for debate.  
Logan noticed and dropped him like a sack of - well - something  
unpleasant. Kurt fell badly, concentrating on pulling air. He missed  
what Logan and Ms Munroe were saying to each other, since his breathing  
efforts overwhelmed anything else.  
"Get out of here, elf," Logan shoved him with his foot. "Don't want to  
add to your list of misdemeanors, do ya?"  
Still coughing, gasping and spluttering, Kurt fled the room.  
Everything had gone completely *beserk*... Still, he'd promised to fix  
everything, and fix everything he would.  
  
He hadn't locked his door, but no-one had come to see him. The others  
must have heard about his crime and were giving him a well-deserved cold  
shoulder.  
The radio, turned on so he could think, was not helping matters  
either. Cher was singing about her life in a travelling show, and how  
that life happened to suck. Cher knew nothing of the Romani ways.  
"...gypsies, tramps and thieves..." Cher warbled.  
Kurt turned the radio off. It wasn't his stereo anyway. He didn't  
deserve to listen to it. It belonged to the Professor. Just like this  
room, and half his clothes, and the image inducer. He probably owed the  
Institute a lot of money for everything he'd eaten, used, and taken for  
granted.  
The letter for Kitty had taken the longest, given his supreme and  
heartfelt desire to apologise for a wrong he didn't even understand,  
and his paucity in the English language. At least he'd learned the art  
of the pen, so he could make his apology on perfect paper, with perfect  
writing. He had ink all over his hands, and wax from the seal. At least  
the signet ring he'd found at the Trash'N'Treasure store had helped him.  
He'd leave that for the Professor. It *was* an antique. Just because  
*he* found it in the bargain bin and bought it because he'd seen _The  
Scarlet Pimpernel_ the previous night didn't mean that it was worthless.  
Opa's twin hairbrushes would come with him. A tie to his family in  
Germany. Not that he could afford to go back for a while. He'd find some  
employment with another Romani tribe, somewhere. Somehow. He'd pay his  
own way out. Right and proper.  
They had, after all, made it clear that he was no longer welcome  
*here*.  
Kurt packed his big coat into the backpack, wrapped around the  
treasured snapshot of himself with his adopted parents. Proof that  
*someone* had wanted him, once upon a time. The coat would draw more  
stares and attention than his natural appearance. He could hide his face  
just as well with an ancient anorak with half the fluff missing from the  
inside, and the pockets were better than long sleeves for hiding his  
hands.  
He hadn't even thought of taking an inducer. That was bound to be  
worse than what he'd already done.  
Kurt already felt bad about taking the one pair of specially-built  
shoes that disguised his feet.  
It was too early in the morning when he slipped out his window, off  
the balcony, and into the night. He was Romani, and if a gypsy knew  
anything, it was how to travel on hostile ground.  
  
Kitty almost trod on the parchment envelope. She stared down at it  
with the bleary-eyed nonunderstanding of being barely awake.  
It had her name on it.  
She picked it up and stared at it. There was no hint on who it was  
from, but it felt bulky, like a tiny present. No. Wait. There *was*  
something on the other side. A wax seal with some kind of brown stuff  
dried on it.  
It was a rampant lion - at first glance. After a couple of minutes'  
worth of blinking and staring, Kitty noticed some little details. The  
lion only had three fingers, and two toes. A mixture of Kurt and giant  
cat. Like, trust the elf to be such a dope.  
Kitty tossed the unopened envelope on her bed and went to see if Rogue  
had beat her to the bathroom. She'd read all about further elfin  
stupidity when she was awake enough to handle it and not before. Like a  
note - however chunky - would make up for the missing underwear.  
_As if. Get a clue, fuzzy._ She couldn't wait until the Professor got  
back from the symposium. He could always rein Kurt in before he started,  
or tone him down once he had.  
Rogue and Jean had used most of the hot water again. Not that Kitty  
minded. She needed a little help to wake up, and the chill was better  
than cappachino any day.  
  
Breakfast was astonishingly subdued, what with the complete absence of  
fuzzy elves. Everyone had heard about the underwear fiasco, so no  
questions were asked. If Kurt wanted to stay out of everyone's way, then  
good for him. Hell, he was probably halfway to the local greaseburger  
joint with a clear conscience and a song in his heart.  
She'd glare him down during English Lit., and that was more than soon  
enough for her.  
  
"Would miss Katherine Pryde please report to the Principal's office,"  
squawked the PA.  
_What the--?_ Obviously the rest of the class was thinking the same  
thing, judging by the stares as she gathered her things. She didn't have  
a clue what she was wanted for.  
It was a long, *long* walk all the way there, and an even longer wait,  
since Toad insisted on sitting right beside her and grinning a lot,  
wafting his BO in her general direction.  
"Well?" asked Principal Darkholme, aka Mystique, as soon as Kitty sat  
down. "Where is he?"  
"I - beg your pardon?"  
"Your little friend Kurt Wagner. He's two periods late - beyond tardy.  
No-one from the Institute has phoned with a cover story for him, so I  
assume you have one up your sleeve."  
"You mean he isn't here?"  
"Spare me your alleged acting skills, Miss Pryde," Mystique sounded  
very, very tired. "I *do* have a school to run, and if a student is  
missing, I prefer to be notified when it *happens*, rather than when  
that student's *friends* decide to let me know."  
"Believe me, Miz Darkholme. This is like, the first time I've even  
heard about it. Honest." _Remember, Kitty, you *can* phase if she gets  
dangerous._ "I haven't a clue where he is. If I knew, I'd like, *tell*  
you in a cold second. He's not like, my favourite person right now. You  
- don'twannahearaboutit." *She* didn't want to hear about it, and she'd  
been living it for the last few days.  
Mystique steepled her fingers. "Maybe I do."  
She was going to *kill* Kurt for this. If she got her hands on him.  
  
The distant ring of the bell almost made him bolt. Kurt turned and  
walked backwards for a while, thinking to himself that Kitty would be  
doing this or that right now.  
That world no longer belonged to him. He wasn't wanted.  
The back roads didn't care what he was, or what he'd done. They didn't  
care that his feet were short a few toes. They were just there.  
Kurt sighed and turned back so he could look where he was going. It  
was better this way, for everyone.  
Well, everyone except him, but he didn't matter. Kurt trudged onwards,  
heading towards Bayville's train depot with heavy feet. If he could get  
to New York, where it seemed that people were blase beyond belief, he  
could find something, someone, who'd help him. Or he could put on a mask  
and do tricks for pennies. Whatever.  
Keep moving. Keep walking. Stop remembering, just keep going.  
Eventually, his heart would scab over. He might even forget.  
Forget Kitty?  
Yeah. Right. As if.  
  
"Okay," said Jean. "I just called Storm, and she says his bed hasn't  
been slept in. He just laid everything he owned out in this precise  
pattern and - vanished."  
"Are we sure Forge didn't leave anything *else* layin' around?" Rogue  
asked.  
"We did a thorough search," said Scott. "Nada. Nothing. Zip. Zeroes  
across the board."  
"We *get* the point," said Evan.  
"*Anyway*," said Jean. "Everything's been left as it is since the  
Professor's due back this afternoon. If anyone can sort out this mess,  
*he* can."  
"This is like, totally my fault," Kitty admitted, amazed that she'd  
gone from zero to worried sick in a matter of minutes. "I totally told  
him to go away... I called him a freak..."  
"He was *guilty*, Kitty," said Evan. "Logan said so."  
"Yeah, but Storm said he was also frightened out of his wits," Rogue  
pointed out. "Maybe he took it into his head to book. Or lay low for a  
while."  
"Kurt the attention hog? Laying *low*?" Evan laughed. "The dude  
doesn't know the meaning of the word 'discrete'."  
"I dunno," speculated Scott. "I mean, he *did* have to live for about  
fifteen years *without* the image inducer. You guys never met him before  
he became Mister Rambunctious."  
"Sorry," said Rogue, "but the very idea of *Kurt* being discrete and  
restrained just makes my head want to explode."  
"Yeah. The big ham."  
  
The breeze woke him up. He'd been walking in his sleep, lulled into a  
hypnotic state by the straight road and the rythm of one foot plodding  
after the other. There was still a long way to go, but he'd go on until  
dark, then find a nice, secluded bush to sleep under until dawn.  
He should have forage-snacked on whatever edibles he could find  
growing on the trees by the roadside. He should have stolen some food.  
He deserved to go hungry. Thief.  
"Well, well, well," said a figure in front of him. "Looky here. Lose  
your way, fluffy?"  
Kurt blinked. It was Quicksilver. "I have no argument with you," he  
told the boy. "Leave me alone, please."  
"So *formal*," Pietro cooed. "Well too bad, blue boy. 'Cause we got an  
argument with you." He raised a communications device to his mouth.  
"He's on Old Rail Road, guys. Come on down."  
Kurt walked on. One foot in front of the other. Steady as she goes.  
Once again, Pietro was in front of him. "Don'cha know it's rude to  
walk away from a conversation, freakboy?"  
"Were we conversing?" Kurt asked. "I'm sorry. I was too busy walking  
and being no harm to anyone to notice."  
"Oooohh. Wrong thing to say, hairball. I'm gonna have to slow you  
down."  
Kurt shook his head and kept walking. "I thought everyone was too slow  
for you already."  
"Not for me," Pietro sucker-punched him at lightening speed in the  
gut. "For my friends. They'll be here *any* minute, and I don't want 'em  
to miss the fun."  
Kurt focussed on relaxing, and not fighting for breath, so that his  
windpipe wouldn't close.  
"Be vewy vewy quiet," Quicksilver paraphrased Elmer Fudd, replete with  
speech impediment. "We're hunting Nightcwawlers. Hahahahahaha..."  
  
Kurt's room didn't look like anyone's room at all. It was like he'd  
erased every trace that he'd ever lived there. All the clothes - all new  
clothes, she noticed - were folded and left out like a Goodwill  
donation. The few things that he'd bought, mostly old junk from  
Trash'N'Treasure, were laid out on the dresser in a similar fashion.  
Kitty spotted the funky old signet ring that matched the impression on  
his note.  
Oddly enough, she remembered that day, when she'd followed him around,  
for a change, as a reward for hauling all her shopping for her. He'd  
gone straight to Trash'N'Treasure and all but dived headlong into the  
bargain bins. Kurt had laughed, and waved it at Kitty, saying, "Oh, it's  
me. It's definitely me."  
She hadn't thought to really look at it then, but now, she couldn't  
stop staring at it.  
It was leaning up against a stack of CD's which were, in turn, holding  
down a folded piece of parchment.  
"Parchment *again*?" Kitty tisked. "What *is* it with him and this  
retro-kick?"  
The Professor, who had been staring at a bundle of neatly rolled and  
labled posters, turned to face her. "What do you mean by 'again',  
Kitty?"  
"Ah, Kurt left this chunky mash letter at our door this mornin'," said  
Rogue. She gestured with her fingers, "It was *this* thick."  
"How do *you* know about that? You were like, totally gone by the time  
*I* found it."  
"*Hello*," Rogue sarcasmed. "Spot the roommate? We both got the same  
door, and if he's gonna leave you a perfumed envelope, I'm gonna sniff.  
So how much did he say and how badly did he say it? Spill, girl."  
"I -um- didn't read it. I'd better go get it."  
Behind her, Rogue coughed something that sounded remarkably like,  
"Ditz."  
When she came back, unopened envelope in her hands, the Professor was  
reading the single page Kurt had left under the CDs. Logan, reading over  
the Professor's shoulder, swore under his breath.  
"Oh dear," said the Professor. The air of subtle worry had pervaded  
the room. "Kitty. Perhaps Kurt left you with more information than he  
left the rest of us."  
"Sure." She handed across the note. "It's exactly as I found it."  
"It's exactly as *I* found it too," Rogue added. "I may pry, but I  
don't go as far as readin' other people's stuff."  
Logan made a face, staring at the otherwise harmless envelope.  
Xavier, meanwhile, was running his finger around the seal. "You'd  
better open this, Kitty. He meant it for your eyes only, as a profound  
apology."  
"You get all that from a seal?"  
"Not from the seal, kid," said Logan. "From the blood."  
"That's *blood*? *Ick*..."  
"Just read the note, half-pint."  
Very, very gingerly, trying not to touch the seal in any way  
whatsoever, Kitty snapped the wax and unfolded the envelope.  
There was a note, and one of her perfume handkerchiefs.  
Wolverine, unheeded by anyone, cursed under his breath again. It went  
on for a long, long time and didn't repeat.  
  
"Katherine," said the note.  
"I'm sorry beyond words. My writing English is not good, but I wanted  
to get that much right. I do not understand what great wrong I did by  
keeping this after you dropped it at school, but I must have done a  
great wrong.  
"I am sorry.  
"Explaining why I kept it, or what I thought, is only going to make  
you angrier. Therefore I can't explain. I just do not have the words I  
need to make everything right. So I do the next best thing. I do as you  
wish.  
"I will not offend your eye by showing my face to you ever again. As  
you wished.  
"I return to you what I took, and hope that it will help you to  
forgive.  
"Yours. Kurt."  
  
"He's run away," Kitty summarised. "But if *this* the only thing he  
ever had - why didn't he say so?"  
"My fault," said Logan. "I didn't give him a chance to say his piece.  
I was too busy scaring him back onto the straight an' narrow that I  
didn't think."  
"So who *has* every single pair of panties I like, ever owned?"  
  
Lance held up his work to show the others after they stopped on Old  
Rail Road. "What do you think?"  
"It ain't the red, white an' blue, yo," said Toad. "But run it up the  
flagpole an *I'd* salute."  
"The G-string ties are a nice touch," said Blob.  
"Tomorrow is gonna be *sweet*," Lance re-folded the flag he'd made out  
of Kitty's stolen underpants. "I can't wait to see her face."  
"Hey, what 'bout tonight? We finally get revenge on the blue lint  
factory over there."  
"Point," Lance allowed. "Let's par-tay."  
  
"So," said Rogue.  
"So what?" said Kitty.  
"So what's with the little pink hankerchief?"  
"You're gonna totally laugh."  
"Just chill and spill, willya?" Rogue advised. "My curiosity is  
killin' me."  
Kitty sighed. "I totally can't wear perfume. At least, not for longer  
than like, three seconds. So I spritz the hankerchief and like, tuck it  
in my bra."  
"Oh. My. God... If Kurt knew where it'd *been* - he'd blush himself  
into next week," Rogue laughed evilly. "Hell I remember the time one of  
my halter-tops got into his laundry? He returned it with *tongs*, an' he  
was shakin' like a leaf an' appologisin' with every breath that he might  
a' got fur on - get this - my 'intimate apparrel'." She laughed some  
more, tears smudging her makeup. "Oh man... that was the biggest laugh I  
ever did have. Boy's shyer 'n a lizard under a rock."  
  
Mama had always complained that Kurt was tough on his clothes. It  
wasn't so much that he was into climbing anything climbable, or that he  
was more rough-and-tumble than most. It was just that he tended to wear  
things out.  
_Mama should see me now..._ he thought as he skidded to a halt after  
Blob had seen how far he could bounce. Half his anorak was shredded, not  
to mention the shirt underneath.  
"Hey. Hey. My turn, yo? I always wondered somethin'." Toad hopped over  
and held up one of Kurt's shod feet. "Howcome he got shoes like *this*,"  
he dropped the foot in order to hold Kurt's head up by the hair. "When  
he looks like *this*? One way t' find out, yo?"  
Kurt closed his eyes as Toad removed the shoes he'd felt so guilty  
about taking. Let them get it out of their systems. They'd tire of their  
sport, eventually. After they were gone, he'd be able to pick up the  
pieces, repair whatever damage they did, and move on.  
If he lived that long.  
"Check it *out*..."  
The rest of them laughed.  
"Now that's some funky footwear," said Pietro.  
"All so he can play at being 'normal'."  
"Can you say 'lost cause' blue butt? I knew you could," Blob, so  
enraged by the laughter of others, laughed the loudest at Kurt.  
Toad had tied the boots together by their laces and was tossing them  
up and down. "Yo fellas. Should I or shouldn't I?" He pointed at an  
overhead wire.  
This was such a great joke to the rest of them, they almost didn't  
notice Kurt trying to shuffle over to the shadows. If he could find  
cover in a ditch or under some brush, what with the lengthening shadows  
of sunset, he could probably vanish without a trace - to their eyes at  
least.  
"Whoop, not so fast, freakboy," Pietro kicked him back out into the  
open.  
Owing to the speed of the blow, Kurt wound up on the other side of the  
road. Something had caught his lungs on fire. It was all he could do to  
breathe.  
"Awwww... diddums," Blob mock-cooed. "He's *cryin'*."   
"He is?" Avalanche craned his neck so he could see. "What a *wuss*!"  
"Ah, he's not goin' anywhere fast," Toad decided. "I wanna see what's  
in his widdle rucksack... Heh."  
"You *would*," said Pietro.  
A moment of darkness...  
"Check the boxers, yo? Liddle hearts and flowers."  
"Hey. Hey. Check this." Lance shook out the big coat, ignorant of the  
crash of breaking glass in his wake. He put it on and hunched over. "My  
name iss Kurt Vaughnair," he mocked. "Also known ass ze yoonar bomber."  
They laughed themselves sick over that one, and fought over the right  
to toss the coat over the highest tree-branch they could find. Todd, who  
lost, investigated the picture that Lance had broken.  
"Awww... Wasn't he cute," Toad laughed, then proceeded to imitate what  
he thought Kurt sounded like as a kid. It was high-pitched, and a very  
bad German accent. "Und zis is mein Mozzair, und zis ist mein Fazzair,  
und zey are ze two *biggest* assholes in chermany. Zey are also *so*  
stupit zat zey sought I vas hoomin!"  
After they finished laughing at that one, Toad hopped over to wave the  
frame centimeters away from Kurt's face. "You think that's your family,  
freak-o? You think that's your family? Your family ain't worth *squat*.  
They got rid of you! They tossed you in with the rest of the trash!  
Stoopid furball." He bought the photo down on Kurt's temple.  
Darkness. Nice, comforting darkness.  
  
"Prof.'s got a reading on some mutant activity," Scott announced.  
"Kurt?"  
"No, the Brotherhood. They're all on Old Rail Road, and Mystique's  
heading there. And since there's nothing where they are but *trees*..."  
"So what are you waiting for? Like, put the foot down, already!"  
  
"Cheese it!" Pietro warned.  
Blob, who had been dangling an unconscious Nightcrawler upside-down,  
lobbed the mutant over his shoulder and assumed a stance of innocence.  
A car pulled up near theirs, and the driver got out, transforming as  
she did so to Mystique.  
They all grinned.  
She wasn't fooled for a cold second, mainly because the wreckage of  
their fun had been strewn across several square meters. Also because she  
found the photo in two steps.  
"Seeya," said Pietro, vanishing in a streak of light.  
Mystique started to growl.  
"We'll -uh- We'll - just be going now. 'K?" Todd sidled towards  
Lance's car. "We -um- got... a... School day! Yeah, we got a school day  
tomorrow. Can't miss out on all that valuable learnin', right?" The  
others, behind his back, scrambled for the vehicle in question at top  
speed. "I mean, who could *want* to miss a fun-filled day of detention  
an' lousy food an' homework and -- Whup!"  
Blob snagged him by the collar and dragged him out of harm's way, into  
Lance's Jeep, which was already moving away.  
Mystique didn't bother chasing them. She'd be able to get them  
tomorrow. Finding her son tonight was her primary concern.  
Picture still clutched in one hand, she risked calling for him. Maybe  
he was groggy enough to respond.  
"Kurt? Ku-urt..."  
  
Was someone calling his name? He couldn't tell. Too much noise. Wind  
in his ears. Wind on his skin felt good, even though the rest of him was  
in pain.  
Falling towards trees. There was nothing he could do about it, and  
oddly, he didn't feel frightened. He could hardly feel anything. There  
was only one thing to do. Only one thing he *could* do.  
_Lord, forgive this humble sinner._  
Then he hit.  
  
Flashback.  
"Kurt! Stop squirming, you'll muss your hair."  
"But Andrei's out there, Mama."  
"Yes, love. He's here for his photograph too," said Papa. "And the  
sooner it's taken, the sooner you can go out and ruin your clothes."  
The photographer, a rather bored old man who'd been photographing the  
circus troupe for years on end, half-sat on his stool and chewed. "Any  
time you're ready, perch the boy on the table, there." He blew a bubble.  
"Bubblegum!" Kurt announced, pointing an accusatory finger. "He's got  
bubblegum! Why don't *I* have bubblegum?"  
There was a mutual adult chorus of, "Only *good* little boys get  
bubblegum. And good little boys sit *nice* for their photographs."  
"Awwww..." Kurt dropped back into a crouch on the table. "I'll be  
good." He grinned. "See? Nice smiles for bubblegum."  
Mama was licking her handkerchief. "Hold still now. You have a mark."  
"Aw, *Ma*ma..." Kurt winced under her ministrations, offended at the  
smell of stale makeup and expired perfume, along with the threat of  
spittle. The things he had to put up with for candy...  
"Same ol' same ol'," clucked the photographer. "*Kids*..." He snapped  
another bubble while the Wagners arranged themselves. "All ready? Are we  
a happy family, now?"  
Papa was laughing. "Sure thing, Mr Braun. Ready when you are."  
"Good, good," said the photographer. He busied himself with the focus.  
"Say, 'Bubblegum'..."  
~Flash!~  
  
"...caugummi..." Kurt mumbled, confused. Where *was* he? Where was  
Herr Braun? Why did he hurt so bad? And *why*, after he'd let Mama wash  
him with *spit*, *and* he'd sat still for the photo, did he not have a  
wad of gum in his mouth?  
Life was *so* unfair.  
It was cold here, and wet, and it was getting dark, and he was all  
alone. Something must have happened, but Kurt couldn't figure out what  
it was. He rolled onto the side that didn't hurt and tried to take  
stock.  
His hands were different. Longer and thinner. His *everything* was  
longer and thinner. Maybe that was why he hurt all over. He was wearing  
different clothes. Sort of. They were all torn up and ruined, and he  
must have hurt himself pretty bad. There was blood everywhere.  
Mama was going to be *so* mad...  
Papa was going to be *furious*.  
And Kurt was lost.  
He picked himself up as carefully as he could. Something had gone  
wrong with his right leg, and it wouldn't support his weight. He had to  
stay on all fours. Fine by him. The bad people that came by, sometimes,  
often missed him when he was crouched in the shrubbery. He'd have to  
avoid the bad people way out *here*.  
Now. What had Papa said about the woods? Point yourself north, like  
moss on the trees.  
Kurt obeyed. If both he and Papa remembered, then it wouldn't be long  
until he was found. Point yourself north and go that way until you find  
a road. Follow it east. If it forks south, follow it south. If it  
doesn't follow the road back to a fork that *does* go south. North,  
east, south, west; all in a big circle until someone he knew came for  
him.  
Limping on his right leg, and stopping now and then to breathe because  
his lungs hurt, Kurt trotted northwards.  
  
"Stop the car! Stop the car!" Kitty hopped out and stumbled back until  
she reached the wreckage zone. She recognised some of Kurt's stuff in  
the chaos, but there was no sign of Kurt. She stood in the middle of the  
mess, trying to make sense of it all.  
Logan, approaching from another direction on his motorbike, screeched  
to a halt. "Don't move," he cautioned. "Not another step." He got off  
the bike. "You'll ruin the tracks."  
"What tracks?"  
"Just stand right there and don't move, half-pint," Logan's gaze was  
darting around the scene, almost following ghosts of action. "It's my  
fault the elf took off. It's my job to find him." He sniffed, then  
growled. "Blood. He's wounded."  
He dropped into a crouch near the remnants of the backpack, and picked  
up a picture frame with ruined glass. "Mystique's been here, but she  
didn't touch him. Looks to me like she took off when she spotted us...  
but chased the Brotherhood boys from the scene."  
"What about Kurt?"  
"He didn't leave here under his own power. Someone picked him up and  
moved him. South. Here." Logan handed her the frame before he returned  
to the southern side of the road to climb a tree.  
Kitty looked down at the picture, absently picking broken glass from  
the frame. This was Kurt's adopted Mom and Dad. Kurt must have been two  
- maybe three years old at the most when it was taken. Had he known,  
then, how different he was? The exhuberant grin on his face indicated  
excitement about something.  
There was blood on some of the glass, and a tiny sliver of blue fur.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."  
Logan jumped back down. "Blob must've thrown 'im. No telling where he  
landed. We gotta wait until the Prof. gets here and hope *he* can find  
him." He bent and picked up a shirt, shaking gravel, glass and road  
detritus out of it.  
Others were already following his lead, retrieving this or that from  
where the Brotherhood had left it.  
  
Kurt bit his lip. Papa hadn't said anything about what to do if there  
were strangers on the road. He ducked even further down into the  
underbrush, watching them through the leaves.  
They were all upset about something, he could tell that even this far  
away, and one girl was even crying. He didn't understand much English -  
learning as he did from scattered phrases and old movies - and he barely  
understood these people at all.  
There was a cowboy, a man with red sunglasses, a woman with red hair,  
the crying girl, a scary girl and a boy with dark skin and blond hair.  
He didn't know a single one of them, he was sure, but there was  
something familliar...  
It made his head hurt.  
There was something scary about the cowboy, about the way he moved, or  
the way he kept frowning Kurt's way every time Kurt moved or made a  
noise. Therefore, he moved *very* slowly, keeping to the shadows and  
wishing that the sun would hurry up and go down.  
Everything was going that murky grey that meant that his eyes couldn't  
decide whether it was daytime or nighttime. It made everything difficult  
to see.  
Moving carefully the way the shadows were pointing, Kurt could see  
more and more of the crying girl. She was holding a picture.  
A picture of Mama and Papa and him.  
But hadn't that photo just been *taken*? Hadn't Mama said that Mr  
Braun had a special slow camera that meant that photos took weeks to  
come out right?  
A jumble of images spilled through his head. A blue woman with red  
hair. Mama peeling bubblegum out of his fur with the help of some foul-  
smelling potion. A train. A watch. Dancing on a table...  
Kurt stifled a groan. Why did his head keep wanting to hurt him so  
bad?  
The scary cowboy man said something and started walking right towards  
him. Kurt panicked and ran. East. Had to go east so Papa could find him.  
Run as fast as he could, but remember that Papa would be looking for  
him.  
He almost didn't see the branch in time. Kurt leaped over it,  
forgetting for a moment about his sore leg. It was a bad jump, and a  
worse landing that hurt his lungs even more.  
Then he hit a tree.  
Dazed, dizzy and hurt, he made for the underside of the nearest bush.  
Maybe the crazy cowboy man couldn't see him if he hid.   
Too late. The cowboy man had him by the tail. Kurt curled up into a  
ball and, weeping, prayed for a miracle to save him.  
  
"Gotcha," said Logan, though his feeling of victory was fleeting. Kurt  
was almost catatonic with fear, and crying like a little kid. The fact  
that he was panicking in German was no surprise. Everyone panicked in  
their native language; but the *vocabulary* was the surprise.  
It was simpler, and so far, Logan had yet to hear his name.  
_Prof. Something's wrong with the Elf. Seriously wrong._  
_Stay with him,_ Xavier advised. _I'm nearly there._  
"Kurt!" Kitty thrashed through the undergrowth, tripping over tree  
roots and shrub branches alike in her rush to get there. "I'm so sorry I  
said what I said and I didn't mean it. Honest. I was just mad 'cause I  
thought--"  
"Half-pint?" Logan interrupted. "He can't understand us. Not a word."  
"*What*?" She was still holding on to the photo, but she'd also found  
something else in the wreckage and, having picked it up, didn't know  
what to do with it. It looked old, and smelled older. "How?"  
"Look at 'im, an' tell me you'd know anyone if you'd been through  
what he's been through."  
Kitty dropped into a kneeling position, and tentatively stroked an arm  
that looked unhurt. "This is totally my fault... I'm sorry..."  
"Mein!" Kurt shouted, snatching at the mystery object Kitty had held,  
then returning to his huddle. This time, he was watching them with  
frightened eyes.  
"Yeah, you yell at me," said Kitty. "I like, totally deserve it. Just  
- hurry up an get better, 'kay?" She reached out to touch him, and was  
shocked when he flinched away. She hadn't even touched him, this time.  
*Kurt* was scared out of his wits. By her.  
However old he was inside his head, it wasn't very old at all.  
"We've got all his stuff," Rogue announced, showing surprising skill  
at walking through an unknown wood in the twilight. "The Professor 'n'  
Jean are gonna lift him out in a minute or so. What the--?" she noticed,  
at last, that Kurt had retreated into a foetal huddle. "What's wrong  
with him?"  
  
"Amnesia," the Professor announced to the quiet crowd gathered outside  
the mansion's tiny hospital area. "I'm afraid Kurt remembers almost  
nothing of the Institute. What memories he does have are extremely  
painful to him, and heavily fragmented."  
"Physically speaking, he isn't much better," Ororo supplied. "Cracked  
ribs, a skull fracture, internal bruising, and some ligament and muscle  
damage in the right leg. The gash on his forehead is minor, compared to  
all of that... and it looks like he hasn't eaten anything for almost  
twenty-four hours."  
"Can we visit?" Kitty asked instantly.  
"You can," the Professor allowed, "but I don't think it would help  
very much. He doesn't remember us. *Any* of us. I think we'd frighten  
him more than we'd comfort."  
"Anything's better than being alone," said Rogue. "Long as we don't  
jump out at 'im, what's the harm?"  
"Yeah," said Evan. "We might even help him remember and stuff."  
"All right," the Professor allowed. "Three visitors at the most at any  
given time, and don't force anything. We need to tread very carefully,  
here."  
  
It was like the time he'd been playing with Opa's brushes, and he'd  
broken a funhouse mirror. Everywhere he looked, there were different  
images. Bits and pieces, and distorted faces. Fragments of motion. Only  
this time, it wasn't a mirror, but slices of memory that were warped and  
shattered.  
Kurt was scared to open his eyes, afraid of what he'd find or where  
he'd find himself, or even what he'd be when he woke up. He tried to  
guess through his other senses where he was, or what had happened since  
the strangers had found him in the woods.  
There was a man with no hair... and he could be trusted, somehow. And  
then - then he'd felt tireder than he'd ever been in his life.  
And now he was here. Wherever 'here' was.  
Something kept going 'beep', over on his left, and there were *things*  
stuck on him that made his fur feel icky. One of them was near his nose,  
where it kept something else in place. There was a heavy smell of  
antiseptics, the bed was too hard, and he couldn't move his left arm or  
his right leg. It hurt to breathe.  
Someone was holding his hand. Kurt risked opening his eye a crack. One  
of the strangers! It was the crying girl, the one who'd known his  
name... Another jumble of images fell through his head, making it ache.  
A lot of the time, one image was her smile, and she was happy to see  
him.  
"Hey," she whispered, a gentle smile growing on her face. "Welcome  
back."  
He understood her, but he couldn't remember *how* he understood. His  
head hurt, and everything was the wrong size. Including him. Kurt looked  
around, since this girl wasn't afraid, and she wasn't doing anything  
bad.  
Someone had stuck tubes into him. Or wires onto him. Kurt felt really  
afraid that Mama and Papa didn't know where he was, and he was in a  
hospital... Another fracture in the mirror-memories in his mind. He'd  
been - six... when they told him about hospitals.  
"Prof. said I could give you some milk if you were thirsty," the girl  
offered. Somehow, Kurt *knew* that she smelled nice; and that *that* was  
a *very* bad thing. "Do you understand? Would you like a drink?"  
Kurt shook his head. Never take anything, not a single thing, from a  
stranger, Mama had said. Especially a stranger who acts all friendly. He  
could see, now, that they'd put his left arm in some kind of brace. Just  
like his right leg. Sort of. There were tubes and wires *everywhere*...  
She reached towards his face and he flinched. "Shhh... I was only  
getting some hair out of your eyes. It's okay." She went back to holding  
his hand. "How much do you understand, Kurt? How much do you remember?"  
_I've been asking the same question,_ he thought, still afraid of her  
as a stranger, yet seeing her again and again in his aching head. Part  
of him was very glad to be touching her like this, yet another part was  
convinced he should run away from her and never come back. He could not,  
however hard he tried, answer one single question.  
*Why*?  
  
Kitty was feeling totally scummy, and Kurt - however innocent - wasn't  
helping. Every time she moved to comfort him, he shied away. He was  
scared of her, and it made her feel sick inside. How did Kurt cope with  
that every day? Why did he come back, time after time, even though she  
still screamed every time he 'ported?  
She remembered the look on his face when he'd appologised for 'porting  
next to her, and the time he'd appologised for landing on her in the  
Blackbird. He'd spent a lot of time apologising to her for one thing or  
another, that first week she'd been at the Institute.  
Sorry for the abbreviated near-meeting when she first arrived, when  
all she'd seen of him was a flash of clothes around a corner and some  
sibilant cursing in German. Sorry for scaring her half to death in the  
library, where she'd thought he was some kind of peculiar wall ornament,  
or techno-art, and then he spoke to her. Sorry for saying 'hello' -  
while clinging to some of the ceiling. Sorry for having fun, right up  
until the moment she'd bumped into him and nearly run screaming. Sorry  
for minding his own business, sprawled out on the couch in the theatre,  
when she'd decided to sit there. Sorry for wanting to sit next to her at  
lunch. Sorry for having a tail to be sat on...  
There had been times when she'd wondered if he could do anything but  
*be* sorry. Now she remembered that he'd been perfectly at home with  
himself until she objected, at which point he'd lurk on the fringes of  
the group and be as unnoticable as he could.  
Not easy for a blue fuzzy elf who didn't get out much before he came  
to Bayville.  
Now she was on the receiving end of otherwise unreasoning fear, and it  
felt totally icky all the way to the bone. She wanted to appologise for  
every flinch, every whimper, every tiny shudder her presence caused. She  
wanted to make it all better, somehow, but couldn't do that without  
scaring Kurt out of his skin.  
She must have made him feel just *horrible*.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry for the rest of my life."  
"Bedtime, Half-pint." She hadn't heard Logan come in. No real surprise  
there. Both Logan and Kurt tended to move without making a sound. "Like  
it or not, tomorrow's still a school day."  
"But--"  
"No 'but's. I'll take over the watch." As if to demonstrate, he parked  
himself on a handy chair. "Now amscray."  
Feeling even scummier, Kitty slouched out of the room.  
  
By the time Logan had finished making sure Kitty was gone, Kurt had  
slid as much as he could away from where Logan was sitting. Amnesia or  
no amnesia, the kid was still afraid of him, and not without due cause.  
Logan *knew* he looked like the type of guy who'd emboss his personality  
on the scenery - and anyone in the way - as soon as look at a body.  
Hell, half the time he acted that way, too. And liked it.  
It was one of the reasons why he hadn't liked the idea of teaching the  
kids. One wrong move, a wrong word or moment, and things could go pear-  
shaped in instants.  
Yeah, he spent a lot of time yelling at the elf, but only because of  
his insistance that everything was some kind of game. The truth was he  
didn't want to see the little show-off get himself killed pulling some  
damn fool stunt - and Kurt was a master of damn fool stunts.  
Then there was that note.  
Half apology, half last will and testement, it'd revealed his inner  
mind like a raw wound revealed too much of someone's insides. Kid tended  
to take rebukes to the bone, and act like they'd ricochetted right off  
him. He was *obsessed* with the idea that he cost too much to keep  
around, both economically and emotionally, as well as lugging around a  
dose of paranoia the size of Texas.  
_'At least I could be entertaining', hell,_ Logan thought. _You *like*  
showing off. Just because you used to earn your keep that way doesn't  
make it an excuse._  
The silence stretched on, and it looked like the elf wasn't about to  
break it any time soon. Time to try what Nightcrawler evidently thrived  
on - praise.  
"From what I saw, you had some clever tricks to stop us tracking you  
down. Smart strategies, kid; but a lousy choice for implimenting them."  
He waited. The Kurt he knew would be arguing the case by now, or at  
least in Logan's face about which bits he liked. "Keeping to the back  
roads, good move. Not using your powers to get ahead of any chase *was*  
clever. Forgetting that we could also pick up on the Brotherhood was  
just plain stupid. You could have got out of that fight in an instant,  
gone somewhere they couldn't find you and just hide out until they got  
tired of lookin'. Why didn't you?"  
No answer. Just the same uncomprehending, frightened gaze.  
"Yeah, I know. I'm the big frightening menacing type who looks like  
he'd tear you to pieces soon as look at you." He sighed. "You're a good  
kid, Kurt. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Even me."  
Kurt winced, clutching at his head with his free hand.  
Logan shut up, falling into his usual feral gloom. Poor kid. Inside  
his dreams, he was a knight of Camelot and every swashbuckler ever  
conceived rolled into one, while on the outside... There was no need to  
think about that. Kurt knew it every time he looked into a mirror, yet  
he still dreamed. Was it self-torture, or escape? Logan didn't think  
anyone knew for sure. Not even Kurt.  
Watching the boy watching him, Logan did his best to seem friendly. It  
didn't work. Even when he was drowsing, the kid's eyes were filled with  
fear, every single time they were open.  
  
He flinched when he realised someone was touching him again. There  
were only strangers here, and a stranger being so close was bad news.  
Kurt opened his eyes in an instant, identifying the stranger as the  
woman with dark skin and white hair.  
There was a name/word... Storm.  
She was a rescuer, he knew that much, but again, he couldn't easily  
remember how and why. She'd been with the trusted man, but did that mean  
he could trust her?  
"[It's all right, Kurt,]" she soothed in quiet German. "[You're among  
friends, here.]"  
"[Am I?]" he whispered. "[How can I tell?]"  
"[That's a very good question,]" she said, busying herself with read-  
outs and some of the tubes. "[I hope I can come up with a good enough  
answer. You can trust us because we're trying to help you. You were  
injured, and you need that help.]"  
_Among friends..._ the phrase rang like a bell throughout his aching  
head. It bought a plethora of images and emotions in a wave that  
overwhelmed him. The circus - his Summertime home-away-from-home - from  
a series of different heights. A man calling himself the General, and  
talking of himself in third person. Kitty... Scott... Jean...  
"[I want to go home,]" he managed, voice barely above a whisper.  
"[We'll see about that when you're up and about, shall we? Right now,  
you need to eat.]"  
  
Logan, lurking in a convenient corner and taking great pains not to be  
noticed, didn't understand a word of what they were saying. Well, two or  
three words, maximum. And one phrase, after a long and slightly circular  
argument between Ororo and Kurt.  
"Mir raucht der kopf..." moaned Kurt as he sat up with Ororo's help.  
The rest of it was plain gibberish to him, but it was working on the  
elf. He could watch the tension easing out of the boy, sinew by sinew.  
_Best if I didn't ruin it,_ Logan told himself, easing slowly out of  
the room. The last thing Ororo needed was him making the kid uneasy,  
just when she'd managed to get him peeking out of his metaphorical  
shell. Maybe there was something the Prof. could do to jounce a few  
more of Kurt's memories loose. Then again, considering their last  
encounter before he ran off, maybe that would be a bad thing. Maybe he  
should just stay out of everyone else's way.  
"Oops. Heh. Uh. Like, any news?"  
Or maybe he should have yelled at Kitty some more. "I thought I told  
you to get some sleep, half-pint."  
Kitty looked like hell warmed over. Her hair was askew and there were  
bags under her eyes. She smelled of stress and worry overlain with sick  
guilt. "I totally tried. Honest. I just - couldn't. Is he okay? Is he  
*going* to be okay?"  
Logan shrugged. "No way to really tell. Guess it's up to him."  
Kitty made a small noise of discomfort and clutched at her stomach.  
Wonderful. She'd worried herself sick, and now there were *two* kids to  
babysit.  
Logan stalked off before anyone could ask him to volunteer.  
  
The Brotherhood had staked themselves out at a convenient table,  
watching the bench where the X-men usually gathered. In order to spring  
their little surprise, the victim had to be there to watch and suffer.  
"She's late," said Todd.  
"She's never late," said Lance. "She'll be here."  
"Maybe she's staying back or something," ventured Fred.  
"And miss out on their little self-appreciation society? I don't think  
so," Pietro was fidgeting with one of the folded 'flag's 'ties',  
snapping the elastic in an idle way. "She isn't here. She's probably  
gone completely nutsoid and is playing nursey to the freak."  
"Yicht..." said Toad. "Way to turn me off my food, man."  
"Considering what *you* eat, I'm doing you a favour."  
  
At least the tubes were gone. The brace that stopped his right leg  
from moving chafed as it wore tiny nests into his fur. Kurt, still  
confused as to when he was, let alone where or why, was surprised that  
these people would give him the run - okay, hobble - of the mansion.  
He was still rather proud that he'd mastered the use of the crutch  
when he found that he wasn't the only kid in the place.  
"It's just chicken broth, Kitty. It won't hurt."  
The one called Kitty moaned. "Go 'way... lea' me die in peace..."  
Even though she was the one who made his head hurt the most, the one  
who caused the most turmoil and conflicting emotions, he risked a peek  
around the doorframe.  
The one called Storm was seated next to a large lump in the bedclothes  
that must have concealed Kitty. He instantly felt sorry for the girl,  
even though her name alone inspired fragment after fragment of mirror-  
memory to slice through his head. Some part of him *knew* that she was  
worth any amount of pain.  
"Why do you hide?" he asked, almost kicking himself for revealing his  
presence. He scared people, and that wasn't a nice way to feel. Kurt  
readied himself to run out of sight at the first shriek.  
"Kurt?" said the lump under the blankets. She didn't sound afraid. If  
she knew him by his voice... was she a friend, like the others he'd  
met/seen?  
He flinched away from the door the instant he saw her head clear the  
sheets. Friend or not, some habits were hard to break.  
"Don't go. Please? I'm not mad or *anything*... just - stay and talk?"  
She'd said 'please'. Any instinct to hide his frighteningly deformed  
self was ripped to shreds from the instant she said that word. "As you  
wish," he whispered before he knew it.  
  
She could see his shadow, so she knew he hadn't fled. Maybe he was  
feeling braver than he had last night. Maybe he was better. Maybe he  
just had no memory at all. It was hard to tell.  
Slowly, almost by degrees, he peeked one eye around the edge of the  
doorway. There was still an element of fear there, but it was a fear of  
what could happen, rather than a fear of everything. He'd been a bit  
like this when they'd first met. Shy and retiring, almost to the point  
of blending into the wallpaper, yet even when she'd met him, he was  
capable of forgetting himself.  
This version of Kurt was so self-conscious, it was almost painful to  
watch.  
"It's all right," she said, despite the way her insides felt right  
now. "Come on in. Like, make yourself at home."  
"You're - sure?" One blue fuzzy digit curled around the doorjamb.  
"Sure," Kitty smiled. "I never meant anything I said before, you know?  
I'm like, totally sorry I ever said it."  
He limped uncertainly into view. "I'm sorry - I don't remember. I  
don't want to remember. Mein head hurts."  
Her eye was instantly drawn to the brace on his leg. In order for him  
to heal, the leg had to remain immobile and unused for at least another  
twenty-four hours. How the professor had managed to cobble it together  
on such short notice was a mystery to her, but then, Kurt *did* have a  
record for getting into unusual trouble.  
Tears stung her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. She'd done this  
to him. If she'd kept her big mouth shut - or at least demanded an  
explanation - none of this would have ever happened. His usual quiet  
grace had been turned into stumping inelegance. Just with her words.  
"It's my fault," she managed, voice barely a squeak. "So sorry,  
fuzzy..."  
When she next opened her eyes, he was offering her a tissue. Kitty  
hadn't heard/smelled him teleport, yet he'd managed to move from one  
place to another without making any impact on his surroundings at all.  
How he moved so quietly - even *with* the crutch and brace impeding him  
- was a mystery to her.  
"Please don't cry?" Gently, almost as if afraid he'd break her  
somehow, he dried her tears. "The Professor said I should be well, soon.  
I remember more - even if it does hurt. You shouldn't cry. Your face is  
made for smiling with." He smiled in demonstration, hiding his teeth,  
instead of displaying that trademark Nightcrawler grin.  
It was almost like he was someone else, borrowing the Kurt she knew.  
Kitty wanted her fuzzy elf back. Goofball flirting, jokes and all.  
She smiled, because it made him feel better, even though she winced  
inside at the way he habitually avoided her touch. _'Chicks dig the  
fuzzy dude', eh, Kurt?_ she thought at him. _You and I both know that  
people tend to get creeped out by fur - if they look that far..._ Kitty  
knew from personal experience that it took a good long while to get  
completely used to Kurt - if one discounted the teleporting, of course.  
*With* his power, he took even longer to get used to. He still managed  
to scare her, or she still managed to be scared of him.  
"Better," said Kurt. "Now I believe fraulein Storm was trying to get  
you to eat?"  
"Not hungry," Kitty told him. It felt wrong to stuff her face while a  
friend was suffering because of her actions. One stupid word. She'd give  
*anything* just to take back that one stupid word.  
"My mother used to say that if you're not throwing up, you're not too  
sick to eat."  
"Ew..." Kitty made a face. "No offense to your Mom, fuzzy, but that's  
just gross."  
He ducked his head to laugh. Another shot to her guts. "Gross or not,  
it's true. Will you try a little spoonful?"  
Kitty groaned under her breath. _Don't say it. Don't say it. Don't say  
it..._  
"Please?"  
_Aw *damn*..._  
  
"OW... Godda--mmmph!"  
"Shh."  
"Shh!"  
"Shh!"  
"You 'shh'. That was my *foot*, yo?"  
"I said *shuddup*..."  
"You shuddup."  
"SHH!" Quicksilver insisted. "Anyone want to wrestle with Wolverine?  
Thought not. Now let's get this stupid thing *done*, 'kay?"  
"...broke my stupid foot, but nobody cares, do they? 'Course not, it's  
just the Toad..."  
"Shut it or I step on the other one," said Blob.  
"Shuttinguprightnow."  
Quicksilver rolled his eyes, sighed, and tried to get things back on  
track. "Everyone know the plan? Everyone going to *stick* to the plan?  
*Good*... Let's hit it."  
As quickly and as quietly as they could, the Brotherhood crept into  
the Institute grounds: Quicksilver scouting ahead for automated  
defenses, Avalanche and the Blob defeating the few that they couldn't  
avoid, and Toad as the limping custodian of what they called The  
Package.  
They made it all the way to the Institute's flagpole unchallenged.  
Lowering the stars and stripes without a sound was slightly more of a  
problem, what with the incipient sniggering, but they managed to take  
one flag and leave another.  
Then, while Quicksilver was whipping up a nice breeze to unfurl the  
new flag, they burst into song.  
"Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light,  
"That so proudly we wave proof that we popped her cherry..."  
  
"What the-?" Kitty put down the bowl and went to the balcony. Then she  
scream-growled in absolute fury.  
Kurt, following, risked getting close enough to her to peek out the  
window and saw - a personal affront.  
Dozens and dozens of panties, the stuff of his more embaressingly  
erotic dreams, had been made into a flag that now waved luridly in the  
air for everyone to see. And these - these - *people*, loath though he  
was to use the word to describe them, were down there singing.  
"O say does the cum-spattered ban-*NER* still wa-ave  
"O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?"  
Then it was all overwhelmed by this - *noise*. Something was howling  
in rage and fury and deep, overwhelming anger. Nothing human could have  
made it. Nothing animal could have made it.  
And Kitty was staring at him.  
It wasn't her, and there wasn't anyone else in the room... ergo, it  
was him.  
Of course. He was neither, was he?  
None of it mattered any more, for some reason. All Kurt knew was that  
a Lady's honour was at stake. Muscles tensed, then he sprang.  
  
They flubbed the first line of the second verse.  
"What the-?"  
They could see Kitty Pryde, staring at something out of their line of  
sight like it was about to explode.  
Which it did. More or less.  
It was almost too fast to follow, even for Pietro. It dived off the  
balcony and headlong into the Brotherhood, connecting painfully with  
them as it did so. Then, once on the ground, it exploded through them in  
a ball of howling madness like nothing they'd ever seen before.  
No-one could gather their senses long enough to fight back. All they  
could do was try to identify whatever it was in their midst. There were  
flashes of metal, wood, clothing and - blue fur.  
Blob, who'd backed off from the fight, was the one who made the  
connection. "It's the freak!" He stepped forward, and grabbed the  
nearest body part.  
  
Kitty, watching in stunned horror from above, found a detatched part  
of herself thinking, _So that's what happened to his leg..._  
Only this time, Kurt flexed and coiled, gripping the limb that held  
him and --  
"ARGH!" Blob swore fluently, shaking his arm in an effort to get the  
elf off.  
Of course. The fangs.  
She'd never seen him fight like this. It was way below dirty fighting.  
This was fighting that had *aspirations* of maybe being good enough to  
qualify for dirty fighting, someday. Kurt's leg brace and crutch proved  
to be handy weapons - though Kitty had less approval for the *way* he  
used them. Especially on Lance. The guy was a world-class sleazebag,  
sure, but he didn't deserve *that* much pain.  
Pietro finally came to the aid of Fred, physically ripping Kurt from  
the injured arm. Since he was doing this at near light speed, Kurt was  
hurled headlong towards the wall.  
{BAMF!}  
But not for long. He re-appeared behind Fred, using his momentum to  
knock the giant mutant down. Pietro barely escaped, and kept running.  
The others followed his lead, catching a final few bruises as they  
escaped Kurt's clutches.  
  
The world swam back into focus, and with it, large portions of his  
memories. The mirror was un-shattering, healing itself. Bits and pieces  
sealed together into an inclusive whole. Except the shards that hurt too  
much, that bit too deeply.  
When she wanted him to stay away from her.  
When she screamed at the sight of him.  
When she called him a freak.  
They were too painful, together or apart, so he shied away from them,  
avoided them altogether.  
There was a hole in his memories, but better a hole than a ball of  
thorns.  
  
To the observers, which had included the Professor, Logan and Storm -  
but only after the Brotherhood was sent running - Kurt just stood there,  
staring at nothing and panting with exhertion. Then he fell over.  
He looked worse than he did in the woods, but this time, the blood  
coating his body wasn't his.  
Kitty, still as a statue on her balcony, could only watch the others  
take him back inside. She was gripping the stone balustrade so hard her  
knuckles were white.  
She hadn't known Kurt could *do* that.  
From the look on his face, he hadn't known either.  
Without another thought, she turned and ran for the infirmary.  
  
For every returning X-Man, there was an iteration of the same two  
questions.  
"How's Kurt?" they'd ask, and, "Any news?"  
The answer was the same, no matter who they asked.  
"I don't know."  
Then they'd drift towards the tiny hospital inside the mansion and  
stake out a position to stand guard in. Once they were all together,  
they got Kitty's story, but little else. Logan and Ororo were close-  
mouthed and hovering between depression and anger. The Professor was in  
the room, working to help Kurt.  
Jean refused to eavesdrop, which only helped the general air of  
depression to spread.  
Eventually, Evan got sick of the silence and murmured, "Man, I didn't  
know the 'crawler could *do* that..."  
"He didn't either. Like, way to find out a new power."  
"Yeah," said Rogue. "Right in front o' someone y'all been trying to  
impress f'r most of the year. Ouch."  
"I just hope he doesn't try living in the basement again," murmured  
Scott.  
"Again?" Kitty quoted. "Like, what's up with that?"  
"It's almost nothing," Jean dismissed, trying to put a lighter air on  
the whole event. "The first time his holo-watch went out, he - kinda  
panicked. It took us a whole day just to *find* him to find out what  
went wrong."  
"He'd gone completely survivalist on us - minus the guns, of course.  
As far as I know, he's still got some kind of cache down there in case  
of mutant hunters."  
"You're kidding us."  
"Nope," said Scott. "It's a genuine precaution. He said if we ever met  
the Friends of Humanity, we'd understand."  
"Why do I get the feeling that like, being a mutant in Europe is  
totally tougher than we got it here?"  
"I'm starting to think that being an elf *anywhere* is tougher than we  
thought..."  
"Shh!"  
All of them turned, as if drawn by a magnet, to face the Professor.  
Judging by the look on his face, it wasn't good news. Most held their  
breath, and the only sound was a muffled whimper, hidden behind Kitty's  
hands.  
Scott, the most protective of them, broke the silence with the  
obvious. "This can't be good."  
Then Kitty, "Is Kurt okay?"  
Professor Xavier sighed. "Physically, Kurt will be fine. However...  
there's still the lingering trouble with his memories."  
"Aw, man..."  
"Is there any hope at all?"  
"Actually, there is," the Professor managed a smile, but it didn't  
quite make it all the way to his eyes. "A significantly large mental  
shock may force him to access the memories he's sealed away, but it  
needs to be something intensely profound. I've been - unable to find the  
key."  
  
"Kameraden!" Kurt swept his free arm out in welcome as he hobbled  
towards them. They were all there; Scott, Jean, Evan, Rogue and -  
someone else. She was very pretty, to all his senses, and obviously  
open-minded, since his holo-watch wasn't on and she had yet to run  
screaming. "It's good to be back to myself, more or less."  
"Well, you seem okay to me," said Rogue. "Welcome back."  
"Hst," Kurt leaned towards Evan as he whispered. "Who's the new hire?"  
"What are talking about?" Evan demanded. "There's no-one new here."  
Kurt kept his voice low. "The lovely lady in the pink sweater, over  
there. She has to be new."  
"Are you joking, man? That's *Kitty*. She was here before I was."  
"Never," Kurt shook his head. "I'd remember someone like *her*. You're  
sure *you're* not messed up in the head?"  
The others were staring at him.  
"*Wha-at*?"  
Jean was the one to break the silence. "The Professor didn't tell  
you?"  
"Vas? You mean that 'there's a hole in your mind' riff from Babylon  
Five? I'm fine. There's nothing wrong."  
"So," ventured Rogue, "y'all remember what happened when you tried to  
talk me into joining you? In the garden?"  
"Ja, sure. You zapped me. I went down like a sack of potatoes."  
"Before that," she prompted. "The thing that got me spooked into  
trying to run."  
"I was - talking to you and -- and..." he stared off into the middle  
distance for a full minute. "Scheiss..." There *was* a hole in his mind.  
A great big gaping one. With jagged edges.  
The one he didn't remember - Kitty - was wiping her eyes. _It must be  
horrible for her, to be forgotten just like that..._ At least he could  
look her in the eye and appologise. For all the good it did.  
She ran from him at last. Ran weeping.  
Screaming or crying, it still hurt inside to have people run away from  
him. It was all he could do not to shrivel up into a foetal ball of  
misery.  
  
Officially, Kurt was recovering from a minor vehicle accident that had  
a lack of safety gear as a contributing factor. Unofficially, he was  
wandering aimlessly around the mansion trying to get his memories back -  
when he wasn't actively burying himself in the schoolwork that he was  
missing.  
Surprisingly, the schoolwork was a welcome break from the hole in his  
mind. He could cope with schoolwork like any other human being. The  
edges of the wound in his memories, no matter how hard he worried at  
them, were a literal pain.  
Yet, every free moment, he'd find himself staring at something that  
bought up a broken memory. He'd stare, running over every microsecond of  
his available recall, and forcing fragments of extra seconds from the  
void, until the resultant headache got so bad he blacked out.  
His only reward was glimpses of her face.  
Considering the expression he so often saw on that face, he had to  
wonder if it was worth the effort. Of course it was. He owed it to her  
to remember, if only to find out *why* he owed her.  
The only answer he could get from the back of his brain contained  
something about wearing his Lady's favour.  
Well, this battle with his brain *was* kind of like tilting at  
windmills...  
  
"Where's Kurt?" Kitty asked, as she always did, when she met up with  
the others in the common room.  
It must have been Rogue's turn. "Jean said he was givin' himself  
headaches in the hangar."  
"Rgh... When is he going to *quit* that? It's bad enough as it *is*  
without him turning up unconscious and God-knows-where... Why can't he  
like, just leave it alone?"  
"Why can't *you* cool the heck off about it?" Rogue asked.  
"That's not the point," said Kitty. "He's just hurting himself worse  
and it's totally awful to watch."  
Rogue was suddenly grinning.  
"*What*?"  
"You're in love with the little fuzzball," she sang in realisation.  
"That's so - cute."  
Kitty snorted. "Like, get *over* yourself, Rogue. I am not."  
"So why y'all so concerned about him?"  
"Kurt's a *friend*, nothing more. *Okay*?"  
"Yeah, whatever. Cleopatra."  
"And what's *that* supposed to mean?"  
"That's how far you're in denial."  
"Oh, ha ha. Very funny. Not."  
"You *are* in love. *And* denial."  
"Am not. And leave off, okay? I'm just - worried about him."  
"*Su-ure*..." Rogue was still wearing that goofy grin she had when she  
told Kitty that she was in love. "What *ever* you say."  
Evan walked into the room. "This is interesting. Whassup?"  
"Ah, Kitty's in love with Kurt."  
"Am *not*! Will you like, leave that *alone*?"  
"You know, you two make a cute couple..."  
"Oh, just shut *up*..." Kitty stormed out of the room, trying to find  
somewhere to be alone with her thoughts.  
"Oh yeah," said Evan in the background. "Definitely love."  
_Shut up._ She thought at him. Just 'cause she was worried about the  
elf didn't mean a thing. Just 'cause she missed the constant stream of  
flirting didn't mean anything either. There were moments she could live  
without - like his tail stunts when he was in disguise. If he poked her  
in the ribs *one* more time with that stupid tail of his...  
Okay, maybe not one more time. She'd be glad when he started again.  
Kind of. Because it'd mean that he'd be back. She'd give him five pokes,  
*then* she'd sock his fuzzy blue lights out.  
Well, maybe not *hard*... Just a warning shot or something.  
She just wanted the Nightcrawler she knew back. She didn't love him or  
anything, no matter *what* people said.  
But he did have a cute smile, and a nice butt - tail or no. And he did  
have his sweet side. And he could always make her laugh. And he *was*  
nice company, when he wasn't being a showoff goofball. Okay, even when  
he *was* being a showoff goofball.  
Kitty stopped.  
_OmyGod..._ A chill swept down her body. _Am I really --? With  
*Kurt*?_  
She could just imagine Daddy - "let's pretend everything is normal"  
Daddy - and his reaction to Kurt. And Mom would go ballistic. Kitty  
could even hear her voice.  
_Why couldn't you settle for a nice, *normal* Jewish boy?_  
Yeah, thanks, Mom. Way to hurt his feelings. Kurt's a nice guy, and  
you don't have to 'get past' the fur and the tail to find that out.  
Kitty headbutted the nearest wall for a few seconds. She was like, a  
total ditz or something. She liked him. Fur and all. Tail and all.  
Bamfing - even though it *still* scared her when he did it - and  
everything.  
_How am I going to break this to my parents? I haven't even warned  
them about how he looks yet..._  
She realised her feet had taken her to the hangar. Where Kurt was.  
The worst thing about the whole package was having to live the whole  
thing down. Rogue and Evan were going to just go on and *on* about it.  
For like, *ever*.  
Kitty spotted him, or more accurately, his tail. He must be perched on  
the nose of the blackbird to have his tail dangling there. He sure got  
into some weird places these days.  
She reached him through the roof's porthole, and watched him for a  
moment. No wonder he gave himself headaches. That much intense  
concentration would give *anyone* headaches.  
"Don't knock yourself out on my account," she said by way of an  
introduction. What Kurt couldn't know was that she meant every word.  
"Hm?" He looked up to find her sitting on the roof. "But I'm *getting*  
somewhere. I remember - I was so excited to be flying the plane. My  
first time as a pilot und I was doing better than well at it..." He  
laughed. "I was - a little upset that all you girls could talk about was  
Scott. All he did was sit there and organise things. I'd just learned  
how to fly the whole plane. What did it take to *impress* you? Apart  
from looks I don't have, ja?"  
She could kick herself. She could just *kick* herself.  
"Anyway," he breezed past his own self-depreciating humour. "I  
remember I needed some air... I was standing right here." He  
demonstrated, closing his eyes as he immersed himself in the memory. "It  
always feels great to have the wind in mein hair. Calming, almost."  
"Don't you *dare* pass out, fuzzy," Kitty warned. "I'm not like, gonna  
catch you if you fall *this* time."  
He straightened, half staring at her, and half into the middle  
distance of vague recall. "Ja. I *did* fall... and that's where it  
starts to hurt."  
"If it helps," she offered. "You 'ported back into the blackbird and  
wound up right in my lap. I had your tail totally in my face."  
His face darkened around his cheeks - the elf equivalent of a blush.  
"I can't remember that part," he confessed. "I don't even know why I  
wouldn't *want* to remember."  
"It's probably 'cause I totally freaked and screamed the second you  
touched me," she admitted. "I was - kinda less than open-minded about  
*anything* back then."  
Kurt crossed the distance between them, leaning casually against the  
blackbird's windshield. "You've improved since then, I must say. From  
what I remember, you didn't like sharing my *air* - let alone  
conversation."  
Kitty leaned down to bring their eyes more on the level. "Y'know, it's  
kinda funny in retrospect," she giggled. "You're like, one of the  
sweetest guys I've ever known."  
"You - mean that?"  
Before she could answer him, they were interrupted.  
"There you are. Memory problems or not, Kurt, you still have kitchen  
duties, just like everyone else."  
Kitty stifled a groan. Was there some cosmic force that detected when  
Teenagers were about to get close or something? Later. There'd be plenty  
of time for this sort of thing later. Like, when they were less hungry,  
forinstance.  
  
"*Kurt*! Stop that right now!"  
"I won't drop any, Frau'," he grinned as he caught each dish from its  
midair spin. "I know how to juggle."  
"Do you know how to juggle while five other people get in your  
elbows?" Ororo asked.  
"Heh," he caught the last dish and grinned. "Stopping as you say."  
Storm breathed a sigh of relief, then dodged out of the way of the  
influx of teenagers trying to either find out what was for dinner, or  
eat it before it was ready. It was times like this that she wondered if  
the kitchen duty roster was as much help as it purported to be.  
Sometimes, it seemed she spent more time swatting away incoming hands  
than she ever did on actual food preparation.  
Then there was the fact that Kurt wasn't himself, and spent half of  
his time worrying at fragmented memories, rather than helping with the  
chores. There was no telling when or where he'd space out on her. At  
least he wasn't trying to snaffle a pre-dinner snack while her back was  
turned...  
On the other hand, when he was his usual self, he knew enough to get  
out of her way. Bumping into someone who wasn't technically in the same  
room as she was was starting to wear a little thin. Plus her other  
teammates were attempting to help by dragging the elf out of the path of  
near-disaster, only to find themselves encountering another one.  
Thankfully, Logan was able to measure up the situation in seconds and  
chase most of the kids out of the room. Which left only those who should  
be there, or the truly determined; and the latter would not be easily  
dissuaded by chores. At least the chaos had dialed down to a tolerable  
level.  
To think, once upon a time, she'd actually wished for more company at  
the Institute...  
  
Kitty had grabbed a spare cloth to dry extra dishes with, or at least,  
that was her excuse. Kurt was less than no help, rostered duty or not,  
what with him spacing out every five seconds.  
Kitty winced at the thought that she might have just inspired him to  
try harder, after their near-clinch on top of the blackbird. The thought  
of turning around to find him as a crumpled heap on the floor just made  
her cringe.  
In fact, she was almost afraid to turn her back on the elf. He was  
definitely looking more than a little wobbly at the knees. Any moment,  
he'd just fall over with barely a sound.  
He was hurting himself. In exchange for bad memories.  
Finally, she threw the cloth down.  
"That *does* it," she announced. "We want a big enough shock, Elf?  
Let's *give* you one."  
One stride, two, and she seized his shirt-front then planted her lips  
on his, before either of them could lose their nerve. She was surprised  
anew at how soft his fur was - just like every other time she managed to  
brush aganst him. For some reason, she kept thinking that he'd be coarse  
to the touch.  
Kurt was anything but coarse. His fur brushed against her like gentle  
down, and didn't even annoy when he finally returned the kiss.  
Kissing someone with fangs was an experience. Having them kiss *back*  
was doubly so.  
  
He flinched at first, not knowing what to do. Breaking away was just  
*wrong*; he knew that much. When a Lady was this determined to kiss you,  
you stayed kissed.  
Kurt froze next, afraid that the slightest movement on his part would  
break the fragile moment like so much spun glass. His senses were  
overwhelmed by her. Her scent intoxicated, her taste, when her tongue  
dipped shyly past his lips, scintillated. The feel of her to his night-  
senses - the very essence of her presence that made her irresistable -  
pulled at him and made him as helpless as a pin against a magnet.  
Of course he returned the kiss. He couldn't help it.  
After what felt like forever, he risked holding her.  
She was every bit as squeezable as he'd suspected, and he was almost  
overwhelmed with joy when she squeezed back.  
Inside his head, the hole in his mind began to fill with a flood of  
memories. No wonder he'd sealed them away, because on top of everything  
else, they hurt too much. But they didn't hurt, now.  
Kitty's kiss was a fairly powerful anaesthetic against such pain.  
In fact, he was not only losing awareness of his surroundings, but  
also gradually losing all sensation in his body. The feeling of floating  
only came about because his feet had faded out of existance.  
There was a very distant sound of something shattering, way off in the  
world outside of her-against-him. Kurt didn't care what it was, nor  
who'd have to pay for the replacement. All that mattered was soaking in  
every picosecond of her closeness, before everything faded away  
entirely.  
He'd lost everything below the waistline, now. Probably for the best,  
since it was almost guaranteed that - well - his blood wasn't going to  
his *brain*.  
Otherwise, he would have remembered to breathe.  
The rest of him sank slowly into oblivion, the parts that were  
touching Kitty went last.   
Going...  
Going...  
Gone.  
  
She was definately going to kick herself later. Like, all around the  
*planet*. The question of how Kurt had learned to kiss like this was  
going to have to be investigated, just so she could thank the lucky girl  
who taught him - shortly before she made sure the same girl was  
thoroughly out of the picture.  
It was the sort of kiss that made the rest of the world go away. Or at  
the very least, fade into insignificance. Her senses were way more  
interested in what Kurt was doing and how it made her feel.  
The sharp points of his teeth only brushed against her lips, and never  
once threatened to break her skin, even when he increased the pressure  
of the kiss.  
Her heart pounded, mostly because of the strangeness of him. He didn't  
even have the usual guy-smell of salty flesh and aftershave. In its  
place was a kind of pleasant musk, and the faint, lingering perfume of  
shampoo. Odd that he didn't have so much as a hint of sulphur about him,  
since he spent so much time leaving little clouds of it whenever he  
'ported...  
Something was pressing into the small of her back, and she didn't  
care. All Kitty could really care about was the very nice feel of his  
muscles as his arms tightened around her. Kitty could feel safe in that  
grip forever.  
Unfortunately, it seemed to be slipping.  
Whatever had been pressing into her dropped with a crash onto the  
floor, and Kurt seemed halfway determined to follow.  
Kitty opened her eyes and saw that Kurt's were rolling backwards.  
_Uh oh... he's loosing it._  
The kiss of both their lifetimes broke.  
Kurt fell down in a heap with a sigh, the goofiest grin she'd ever  
seen plastered across his blue fuzzy face.  
...and then applause broke out from the kitchen door.  
Kitty turned to see her teammates gathered in a cluster by the door -  
except for Wolverine and Storm, who were merely marking time with raised  
eyebrows - and she growled at them as they whistled, cheered and  
clapped.  
"*HEY*! Like, leave off!" Kitty shouted at them. "It's not like you're  
starved for entertainment."  
"No, but we *are* star*ving*," said Jean. "We just came to see what  
was holding up dinner."  
Rogue elbowed Evan in the ribs. "Y'all owe me forty bucks, Porcupine.  
I knew they'd do it before dinner."  
"Uh," said Evan. "Is he breathing?"  
"He is *now*," said Scott. "I didn't know anyone could hold their  
breath that long..."  
"I don't think he did, technically speaking," noted Jean.  
Kitty did her level best to ignore them, kneeling on the floor so she  
could cradle Kurt's head. "You okay, fuzzy?"  
"...mrghl..." said Kurt. His eyes fluttered open, and much to Kitty's  
dismay, were filled with that look of vague confusion he'd had all week.  
"Wo bin ich?" He frowned, looking at Kitty. "Wer sind Sie?"  
_Oh no..._ Her heart dropped. Plummetted down so low that it probably  
reached the centre of the Earth. "Oh, Kurt... Damnit, I didn't mean--"  
"Psyche!" He laughed, returning to his normal self and lurching  
upwards to hug her before she could react.  
"*Kurt*... I could totally *kill* you for that!"  
"Ah, mein liebchen, you should know a kiss like *that* could bring me  
back from the *dead*. A little fractured memory goes away just like  
that." He sprang to his feet, and offered Kitty a hand to help her up.  
His trademark grin, she noticed, was threatening to make his face crack.  
"Just you *wait*, Kurt Wagner," Kitty threatened. "I'm gonna get you  
for this. I'm gonna get you *good*."  
"It was worth it," he chortled. "Do your worst, fraulein, I dare you.  
I can take it all and laugh. The Elf is back in the house!" Kurt started  
to dance, singing as he did so.  
There was a mutual groan from Storm and Wolverine.  
  
=========================================================================  
  
Side-flings, homages and downright rip-offs  
  
"As. You wish." -- _The Princess Bride_, of course :) I swear, one of  
these days, I'll rip off the entire book :) Hmmm... :) ;)  
  
What was it with bigger males and their desire to drag him around by the  
front of his shirt? -- Check it out. Kurt's shirt is the favoured method  
of getting that necessary eye contact. Or getting the Elf out of their  
way...  
  
"Keeping a lady's things to sniff ain't exactly the first word in  
chivalry." -- Paraphrased from the opinion of Miles Vorkosigan - care of  
Lois McMasters Bujold. If you don't know who either of these people are,  
go to your friendly local book shop and pester them for a copy of one of  
Ms Bujolds books. It's worth the money. Trust me.  
  
Romani -- another word for Gypsies, and yet another NC Reference From  
the Dawn of Time(tm) ;) Originally, NC was adopted by gypsies who worked  
in the circus where he grew up. Of course, Marvel and co. may have  
retconned that out of existance, but until it's actually *said*, I'm  
keeping this little touch as part of my Fanfic Continuity :)  
  
If he could get to New York, where it seemed that people were blase  
beyond belief... -- Go figure it. Just how much wierd sh*t seems to  
happen in New York? It's got Spider-Man [the last time I looked,  
anyway...], SuperMan [Ditto], those Turtle guys [anyone remember them?],  
Vincent [anyone remember *him*?], that guy from _Now and Again_ and a  
whole bunch of others that I don't know about just yet. Australia *is*  
behind the times on that count. What with all the costumed wierdos  
running around, one blue fuzzy elf would not make that much of a  
difference.  
  
"The big ham." -- Stolen directly from _Excalibur_. Same character, same  
subject, same line :) I love doing that.  
  
"What *is* it with him and this retro-kick?" -- In case you were  
wondering, too... I figure that the X-Ev NC has, like his comics  
counterpart, been heavily influenced by hoary old movies involving  
swordplay, chivalry, and other things of a bygone era. Therefore, he'd  
also be able to *appreciate* things of bygone eras. I just have him  
collecting a few of them as well :)  
  
Blood on the seal -- yet another side-fling to Lois McMasters Bujold :)  
This time, the book is _A Civil Campaign_. Blood on a white seal shows  
heartfelt emotion behind the words.  
  
"Howcome he got shoes like *this*..." -- One or more of the XME episodes  
has NC, in his native form, wearing shoes. Now, anyone who's had a look  
at what he's got for feet knows that he can't get them at your average  
footwear emporium. I'm willing to accept that the animators stuffed  
things up for *one* episode - but a couple? No way. Therefore, he must  
actually *have* shoes that fit those feet and still look 'normal'. Quite  
a stunt, I must say.  
  
"She's late," -- paraphrased from _Waiting For Godot_, which I've never  
read/seen :) From what I can gather, it's one damn boring play...  
  
"She said 'please'." -- Stolen from a story by Spider Robinson :)  
  
"Shuttinguprightnow." -- Stolen from "A Bug's Life" :)  
  
And no, I don't have the complete words to the Brotherhood's little  
ditty. I just made up what fit, left the rest to other, more perverted  
imaginations, and rested assured in the knowledge that I'm probably  
going to Hell for that much ;)  
  
Kurt's howl is something from the *really* old days of his comic-book  
career that's been long forgotten :) Just as well, probably.  
  
...his Lady's favour -- A Medaeval chivalry thing. Knights fighting for a  
Lady they fancied wore a scarf or kerchief as a sign of her favour. Of  
course, the phrase got abbreviated for convenience and the fabric in  
question just became 'a favour'. Aren't the weird bits of history  
*fascinating*? ;)  
  
tilting at windmills -- Just in case you *don't* know, this one's a  
reference to Don Quixote [pronounced 'Key-hote-ay' ] who's famous for  
doing the same thing. The phrase has lately become synonymous with  
fighting a battle impossible to win, and pointless to boot :)  
  
Kissing someone with fangs was an experience. Having them kiss *back*  
was doubly so. -- Paraphrased from _Labyrinth_, a short story by Lois  
McMasters Bujold :) You can tell I like her :)  
  
  
German-English translations:  
[Note: Most translations are care of Babel Fish, which lives on Alta  
Vista :) The rest are from my limited knowledge of German and my e-  
penfriend Fraulein Heidi Fursteinburg :) Thanks heaps Heidi! ^_^ ]  
  
"Nie weider, ich verspreche. Ich repariere alles, swear ich..." -- "Never  
again, I promise. I'll fix everything, I swear..."  
  
"...Ich bin traurig! Ich bin traurig..." -- "...I'm sorry! I'm sorry..."  
  
"...ich... kann... nicht... atmen..." -- Roughly, "I can't breathe" :)  
Either German doesn't use contractions or Babel fish doesn't like them.  
I'll find out in due course :)  
  
Opa -- Grampa.  
  
Caugummi -- Bubblegum. Pronounced 'COW-goo-me' :)  
  
Mein! -- Mine!  
  
"Mir raucht der Kopf" - German idiom for my "head is spinning" showing   
confusion.  
  
Kameraden - comrades/friends.  
  
"Wo bin ich?" - "Where am I?"  
  
"Wer sind Sie?" - "Who are you?" 


End file.
